The Vase
Michelle, Age 11, Burnaby, BC

I stood there like a statue as I stared at the body. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I was expecting a tear coming out of my eyes but I was SO scared, that not even a tear dropped. Maybe it’s a dream, I hoped. But I knew it was happening for real. My heart thumped so rapidly against my chest, I felt like I just completed a hundred meters race competition. Mom would be back in a minute! What should I do?

It all started with the vase. The vase was the treasure in my household and my mom kept it at the top of the cabinet so I won’t be able to reach it. The vase was my grandfather’s finest piece of work. He devoted twenty years of his life just making it! People say he didn’t care about anything else.

He deceased the day after the vase was finished. We searched around the house for his body, but it wasn’t there. We just found the vase, completed. The vase that the grandpa had worked so hard making it. Because of that, we believed that grandfather’s spirit was in the vase. Sometimes my mom held the vase, when she was missing grandfather. But, my mother never allows me to touch it or anything like that, even though I was dying to. One day, when my mother went to the local market to buy fruits and sorts, I grabbed an opportunity. I pulled out a chair and placed it in front of the cabinet. Then, I stood on it on my tiptoes, and reached up towards the treasured vase.

My stomach lurched and I didn’t feel so good as I did it. I was shaking with guiltiness. I’m not supposed to do this, I thought, blushing. But those kind of thoughts disappeared the moment I saw the vase.

It was marvelous. I touched it gently as if I was touching a jewel or something. It had a sort of papery texture. And the pattern! Wait a sec… it looks like… a face, I thought.

What an unusual, yet unique pattern!

I studied it more carefully because sometimes, I can’t believe my own eyes. Nope, my eyes were right. It was definitely in the shape of a face. That was when the thought occurred to my mind. “Maybe…perhaps it was some kind of message from grandpa. A message saying that his spirit is in there. Oooh, that’s kind of spooky but it makes sense!” I whispered to myself.

“You’ve guessed right, my dear,” a faint, but clear voice came from the vase. I was so surprised and scared, I dropped the vase!

The vase shattered into tiny pieces and there it was, the body of my grandpa. And now, I was still staring at the body, so scared, I daren’t move. Then, I heard our front door opening, and the sound of footsteps as my mother came in. She came toward me, stared at the body, then at the vase, then back at the body again.

“What in the world…”

A couple of weeks later, my grandfather was buried in a grave with his treasured, but broken vase pieces. Finally, he was able to have a long break. Of course, my mom was steaming mad. Before she uttered a word, I knelt down in front of her and told her how sorry I was and made a promise I would never do such a thing again no matter how curious I was. As a result, she pardoned me. I know that she pardoned me because she was glad to see her father’s body again and finally let him go to a deep sleep.

Centuries later I was living in the heaven, listening to the angels sing and enjoying a delicious banquet with the newcomers. I gazed down at the Earth below and focused my sight to the place where my village used to be. There was quite a commotion going on there. There were several archaeologists digging up something from the soil. It was...oh, grandfather's vase!

The next day, I silently watched, open-mouthed at the sight of the vase being sold in an auction. A woman bought it for $1000. Hmmm...she seems like a nice woman. I hope she takes a good care of the vase.

Home | Read | Write | Copyright | Privacy

This page was last updated on October 30, 2009 by the KIWW Webmaster.